Apples
by JessieRose
Summary: Set after Barbossa's death. Elizabeth begins to wonder if Barbossa was as evil as everyone says. NOT a LizBarbossa!


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A/N I'm thinking this might be slightly out of character for Elizabeth. It's set after Barbossa is killed in the cave. Elizabeth starts to wonder if he really was as evil as everyone says. . . this is just a one shot, so no more chapters I'm afraid. Once again, I'm sorry if it's out of character. Any suggestions are welcome!! ^_^ 

Apples. 

He kidnapped me, tried to kill Will, stole Jack's ship, and left him to die. And those were only the crimes we knew about, I am sure there have been countless others. Murder, thieving, raping, plundering, pilfering, booting, yes, countless others. But Jack too was guilty of such crimes. I don't think you really know a person until you have walked a mile in their shoes. An old cliché I know, but it's true. 

How do we know what Barbossa truly was inside? 

It all happened so quickly. The gun was pointed at me, I thought, this is it I'm going to die. Actually no, that's what I would of expected myself to think, but no. My thoughts were not of myself. My mind was channelled in a different direction. A blacksmith was moulding his sword, a boy was drifting in the ocean on a plank of wood, a pirate was bandaging my hand, no my thoughts were not of myself. 

I heard the shot, and gasped. I thought it was me the bullet had penetrated. My heart was aching anyway, so my chest hurt. 

But it wasn't me. 

Jack was holding a gun in the air, he let it drop to his side. It was Barbossa who had been shot.

"Ten years you carry that pistol and now you waste your shot." He said, in his sneering voice. Oh how that voice has haunted me. 

Jack had shot him to distract his attention from me, but what now? 

"He didn't waste it."

I turned to see Will open his hand. Out dropped two coins. They clunked as they fell against the other gold medallions in the chest. An ominous sound, which meant so much to the four that heard it. 

Unfortunately for Barbossa, it meant death. He pulled open his shirt, and I caught sight of the blood pouring from his wound.

"I feel. . .cold." He said. And there was almost relief in his voice. It was over, he could rest, he could stop. No more striving, no more trying, he was free of the curse. 

He fell to the ground, disturbing a pile of gold. An apple rolled from his hand. A curious object, he had had a strange obsession with the green fruit. To him it represented life, apples was the curse over. It also meant every time I saw an apple, I thought of him. 

The shock didn't hit me until later. At that point all I wanted to do was get away, go home, back to reliable old Port Royal. 

"We should return to the Dauntless." I said to Will, not really thinking. 

"Your fiancée will be wanting to know you're safe." He replied, coldly. 

How could he bring that up now? I didn't understand. How could he say that after all we had been through together? 

There was a crashing noise as Jack threw a gold statue across the cave. He told me later he was looking 

for quality. 

It wasn't rowing back to the Dauntless, or the journey home when it first struck me. But the night before Jack's hanging. That's when I begun to wonder. I had heard the charge against Jack, didn't believe half of them. And no matter what he had done, Jack was a good man. So what about Barbossa? 

He was greedy, he had marooned his captain because he wanted control, and didn't want to share the treasure. But who can honestly say they care not for power, and strength, who can raise their head up high and say they are not greedy? It is a natural human failing to desire power, surely we could not condemn him for that? 

He was dead, Jack had killed him. To save me, nonsense, I told myself, Jack would have killed him anyway. But he was still dead. Never would he breath, move, talk again. All he had wanted was to feel, to feel alive. How can you judge a man until you have walked a mile in his shoes? You can't. I mean, what was he really like, really, deep inside? He may have been a good man, misunderstood like our dear ol' Jack. 

When I voiced my doubts to Will, he laughed. 

"That man was poor evil, Elizabeth." 

"How do you know?"

"You know what he did to Jack? He kidnapped you, he was going to kill me. . ." Will began. 

I shook my head. "Those are just things he's done, you don't know what he was thinking, what he was feeling. You don't know him at all. You cannot judge people by their actions." 

"Then how do you suggest we judge people?"

"If that were so, Jack would be as guilty as sin. But he's not."

"You cannot compare Jack and Barbossa." Will said.

"Why not? I'd say in earthly crimes, they're about equal."

"Barbossa left Jack to die."

"And Jack shot and killed Barbossa. . .whether it was out of greed, or vengeance is immaterial. He still shot him, and he shot to kill." I told him. But he would not, could not understand. He thought I was defending Barbossa. Never. But who was he really? And who are we to judge someone we did not know? 

It's Jack's trial tomorrow, he's been judged. And found guilty. But how? That is what I do not understand. It is not our actions that make us who we are. Jack is a good man, regardless what he has done, and is yet to do. 

And I'm sure Barbossa was not one hundred percent bad. Everyone has a good side. However, we shall never know what Barbossa's was, he's gone now. But every time I see an apple, I shall think of him, and wonder. . .was he wholly bad? 

". . .captained by a man so evil that hell itself spat him back out. . ."

Did hell really reject Barbossa, and his apples? 


End file.
